


Rumor Has It

by WillowBlueJay17



Series: Four Little Lion Cubs [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, guest starring my interpretation of Sylvain's big brother and their relationship, pre-release
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowBlueJay17/pseuds/WillowBlueJay17
Summary: There were plenty of rumors spreading throughout Faerghus about Sylvain. Rumors about his brother, born without a crest. About the company he keeps, and his influence on them. About his attempts to flirt with ladies. Rumors and nobility always go together, that can't be avoided. Although reality was always far more complex, wasn't it? Sylvain-centric. COMPLETED!





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

> This took soooo long to finish, mostly because I kept getting distracted, especially with all the information that's been dumped over the past few days. The Blue Lions promo video was wonderful, my dear son Dimitri sounds like an adorably awkward baby I can't wait to cry over him. And I can't believe NoA said Felix has no rights, having Dimitri introduce Sylvain and Ingrid but not him. But of course I expected we'd get Dedue, so I saw it coming that one of the childhood friends would be left behind. Also, NoA has finally updated the English Three Houses site, there's even profiles and voice clips, though not for everyone yet. At this time, the website said none of Dimitri's childhood friends have rights, none of their profiles are up yet. But yeah, lots of info, videos, reviews! Tons of hype! Fourteen more days until Three Houses releases! I can't wait! In the meantime, please enjoy this fic!
> 
> Oh, by the way, I have to say this fic has the most references to other fics. This fic has a bunch of references to "Since Sticks Were Swords", and a couple to "Trust Falls". Makes sense, since this is technically a connected series of one-shots, and I will set it up as a series once the last fic is up. But at least "Since Sticks Were Swords" and "Trust Falls" can be read on their own, even though they both have tiny references to each other. I think you can read "Rumor Has It" on its own, but you get it best if you read "Since Sticks Were Swords" and "Trust Falls", especially "Since Sticks Were Swords". "Rebuild From Zero", while having a reference to "Since Sticks Were Swords" is its own thing in its own separate universe, so it's not part of this little series. Just wanted to clarify!

_“Did you hear? They say that the Gautier family’s eldest son doesn’t have a crest!”_

_“No crest? How embarrassing! The Duke and Duchess had been bragging so much of what a genius the boy is for so long.”_

_“Truly a shame. But I hear the second son was born with one.”_

_“Really? Now I pity the older boy. Knowing the Duke and Duchess, they certainly won’t allow a child with no crest to be heir to the family name.”_

_“Indeed. How it must feel to know your younger brother has stolen your place.”_

If there was one thing Sylvain was certain of when he was too young to understand anything, it was that he loved his older brother dearly.

A charming boy with an excellent head on his shoulders and a noble heart. Yes, his brother was his idol, the apple of their father’s eye, their mother’s darling. Their parents always talked about his brother to anyone and everyone who asked, and many more who didn’t. The pride and joy of the Gautier family.

It was lonely, of course. Being the heir to the family meant much more studying and training than would ever be expected from Sylvain, the second son. As such the two brothers rarely spent much time together. Sylvain carefully, quietly, watched over by his nannies, playing with more toys than he knew what to do with. His brother locked in his room with several tutors, poring through book after book on economics, politics, etiquette, and more. His brother was being groomed to be the ideal heir. Sylvain had no such obligations and could simply, far too simply, do as he pleased. Their worlds rarely collided, never had much need to. 

But oh, how Sylvain adored those days when they could be together. When his brother took a couple of servant boys’ outfits for them to wear as disguises so they could freely explore the harvest festival being held in the nearby town. When they ran through the estate’s gardens, playing hide and seek, accidentally ruining their mother’s favorite flowers. When they napped together with their father’s hunting dogs, cuddled together in a warm pile in front of the fireplace during Faerghus’ notoriously frigid winters. When his brother let him play with his beloved pet songbird, although the bird always preferred resting atop his brother’s head than staying on Sylvain’s finger. When Sylvain would play beautiful melodies on the piano for his brother, who would sit beside him, quietly enjoying the songs. When his brother would thread gentle fingers through Sylvain’s red locks, a sweet smile on his face to match Sylvain’s toothy grin.

But…perhaps his love for his brother blinded him from reality…

He didn’t see the worry and fear in their parents’ eyes. He didn’t hear the arguments. He didn’t notice when his brother would spend less and less time with him, with anyone. He didn’t ask the right questions or say the right words when he noticed the songbird was gone, when he saw his brother hugging the empty cage. He never questioned the sincerity of the smiles his brother threw at him, threw at the world, in the days and weeks and months that followed. Had those smiles always been so small, so fragile? No, rather than the smiles, had his _brother_ always been that way?

Sylvain didn’t know.

Sylvain was so young then, so naive. He never noticed so many things. All he knew was that as time slowly passed the tutors would show up less, leaving more time for the brothers to play together. Although his brother kept turning him down, locking himself in his room for hours and hours.

But wasn’t studying all the time boring? Didn’t training day in and day out get dull? Wasn’t it better, more fun, to play together? Sylvain thought so, so he didn’t mind whatever was going on. His brother was free from all the boring stuff and could now play with him all the time. What could be better?

Foolish child…He may have been young, but how could he never notice how much his brother was suffering? How could he never notice when his brother’s gentleness darkened into frustration and bitterness?

One day, when he was still too young to understand, he learned the story. That his older brother didn’t seem to inherit the Gautier family crest. Sylvain didn’t know everything about crests then, but he did know they were important, the treasure of families across Fodlan. He also knew his father had one, and that he himself inherited one as well. He overheard his parents arguing that maybe his brother was a late bloomer, maybe the healers and researchers knew nothing and were not noticing his crest.

Sylvain went to his brother’s room, only to find the other boy laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He seemed to do that a lot lately. 

“Brother, guess what?” Sylvain had greeted, climbing onto the bed and leaning over his brother’s head, “I heard Mother and Father talking about you.”

“…Did you now?” came the whispered response.

“Something about how you don’t have a crest?”

His brother sat up without warning, Sylvain flinging himself back to narrowly avoid getting hit in the head, and got off the bed. He went over to the window, staring out with an expression Sylvain had never seen before. He wore so many new expressions nowadays. Sylvain didn’t like any of them. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sylvain asked as he got off the bed and went over to where his brother stood, staring at the newest strange expression on his face.

“…Leave me alone, Sylvain,” his brother’s voice was still soft, but not the kindhearted soft Sylvain remembered. 

Sylvain didn’t understand. And it was precisely because he didn’t understand that he said what he did. But he was so sure his words would cheer his brother up.

“Who cares about some stupid old crests?”

If the topic of crests was what was bothering his brother so much, then those were the right words to say, weren’t they? He was so certain. Certain in a way only little children could be.

His brother slowly turned and looked down at Sylvain. Eyes Sylvain had always considered warm like a fire were blank, lifeless. Mouth straight as a line. The air itself almost seemed to freeze in that moment. 

…Sylvain had _never_ feared his brother before…And yet… 

“Does it matter that much?” Sylvain tightly clutched the ends of his shirt, struggling for the first time in his life to maintain eye contact with another person. He thought if he kept going his brother would stop staring like that, “It’s _you_! You don’t need a crest to be a great heir!”

It all happened in a flash. His brother’s brow furrowed, the fire returned to his eyes, but in a blaze unlike the gentle flame Sylvain had always known. He raised an arm and swung it down at Sylvain, teeth bared. Sylvain tightly shut his eyes, his own arms quickly moving over his head.

The moment passed and the sting Sylvain had expected never came. By the time Sylvain willed himself to open his eyes, his brother crossed the room and passed through the doorway, slamming the door shut behind him. Leaving Sylvain alone in the too quiet bedroom.

Sylvain eventually learned how the world worked. He learned about how tightly woven the crests were into Fodlan, into the structure of the nobility itself. He learned that for the noble families graced with crests in their blood, the crests and inheritance worked hand in hand, and to suggest otherwise was foolishness of the highest caliber. He learned how insensitive his words were. But it had taken too much time…

By the time Sylvain truly understood, the brother he loved was already lost to him.

~~~~~~~~

_“I’ve heard the Fraldarius heir has been spending time with the Gautier family’s second son lately.”_

_“Oh, that Fraldarius boy. Hasn’t he become such a terror lately? Picking fights left and right, and never minding his tongue! Honestly, just when Prince Dimitri has finally calmed down, that boy has seemingly decided to take his place as Faerghus’ wild child.”_

_“Wasn’t he always like that though? Never getting along well with others, always a little off? But more importantly, the Gautier boy is always running off with him now, without a care in the world.”_

_“How nice it must be to have so few worries when his parents are driving themselves mad over their first son. Who knows where they’ve gone off to with the boy, leaving the younger one behind? To think they still can’t accept the boy doesn’t have a crest.”_

_“Truly sad. But seeing the second son constantly playing around like that…Doesn’t he care about the suffering his family is going through?”_

Felix saved Sylvain, whether he knew it or not.

Things had shifted at the Gautier estate, in ways that made Sylvain’s gut clench. His brother had stopped playing with him all together, only ever speaking to him if Sylvain had to pass a message along from their parents or if Sylvain was feeling particularly stubborn that day. Other than that, his brother would stay in his room, even eating meals there except for the few times their parents were aggravated enough to force him to the table. Sylvain was lost, unsure of what to say or do that could bring his brother back. _If_ his brother was willing to come back at all.

Sylvain seemed to be the only one trying to do anything though. His mother had long since stopped doting on his brother, instead focusing her attention on fussing over Sylvain. His father had started pushing more work onto Sylvain, his brother’s tutors and studies becoming his own. His parents no longer talked about their genius eldest, rarely talking with society at all to be honest. But sometimes Sylvain would hear them talking about him, though they were forced to focus more on his charm and tenacious spirit, as he didn’t have his brother’s intelligence or natural talent. 

Fine, Sylvain could accept this much, uncomfortable as it made him feel at times. But then came the change that terrified him to his core.

Marquess.

The first time he had overhead a servant address him as such when talking with another member of the estate’s staff, he assumed it was a simple error and brushed it off. Sylvain was the second son after all, and he knew how difficult all the nonsense surrounding titles could be for anyone outside the nobility. His brother was the one who was the marquess, as he was the heir. Further complicating things for those not in the know was that even though his brother was the one with the title, they were both referred to as “Lord”. But then it happened again, another servant offhandedly referring to him as the marquess. Sylvain eventually heard so many of those who worked in his family’s estate occasionally call him the marquess when they talked about him.

…The warning signs were all there. 

But they were mistakes, that’s all they were. That was the only answer that he would accept. But then came the day when Sylvain was eating dinner with his parents. His brother had been dragged out of his room to eat with them. Sylvain had casually mentioned how delicious the dessert was and wondered if there was more. A nearby servant then turned to one of the maids and told her to bring some more of the dessert from the kitchen “for the young marquess”.

Sylvain tensed, quickly looking over to his parents to see how they would react. The servant had spoken softly enough, but he was also standing rather close to the table and there had been a lull in conversation at that moment. There was no way anyone would have missed that. And Sylvain knew how strict his parents were when it came to proper forms of address. But neither his mother nor father seemed to care, continuing to eat and make casual conversation with each other, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

As if… _Oh_ …So this was really happening.

Sylvain was still a young fool who didn’t know much, but he was no longer the naïve brat who knew nothing. He understood _exactly_ what all of this was implying. A child with no crest would be an embarrassment of an heir as far as the nobility were concerned. But how _dare_ his parents do this. Why did they have to do this so cruelly? He took a breath and willed himself to turn his head and look at his brother, to gauge his response to the matter.

…Sylvain desperately wished he could erase the image of his brother’s expression in that moment from his mind.

What could he say? What could he do? Sylvain had no power, no influence, to change his parents’ minds. To make them realize his brother was the better heir, had always been so. Hadn’t they thought so too, all those years ago? But hadn’t he himself been reminded time and time again about the importance of the crest system in Fodlan? Perhaps Sylvain hadn’t grown much at all. He hadn’t known what to do for his brother when he was younger, and he had no ideas now either. 

Perhaps he was simply a coward.

Lord Sylvain…Everyone outside the family called him as such when speaking to him. But now, with how much things had changed, Sylvain no longer knew what they meant. “Lord Sylvain”, as in the second Gautier boy? Or “Lord Sylvain”, the yet to be officialized replacement heir to the Gautier family?

He didn’t want to be “Lord Sylvain” anymore. He was sick and tired of the title and the uncertainty of what it meant for his life, for his brother. What _would_ happen if his parents really did go through with this? Would his brother…?

…Why couldn’t he just be Sylvain? 

But just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, couldn’t get more confusing, his parents announced that they were taking his brother with them on a trip. When Sylvain pressed for details, his parents talked circles around him until he got a headache. When he tried to get information from his brother, all he got was a glare and a door slammed in his face.

He wanted to scream, to pull at his hair. Hadn’t this marquess business shown that his parents had decided Sylvain would be the new heir? But now they wanted to drag his brother off on some trip. And if he knew his parents by now, he knew it had to be something related to the Gautier crest.

Why were his parents prolonging this? Why were they making it worse? Sylvain felt an upwelling of anger and determination fuel him to enter his father’s room, interrupting his work, to ask those very questions. He felt brave for the first time since he was made aware of their family’s crisis years ago. He could do this, he could tell his father how foolish all this was, how unnecessarily cruel it was to his brother.

A single slam of a fist on his father’s desk. That was all. And yet that single action, the bang that echoed in the room, shut Sylvain up, his arms locking to his side as he stood straight as an arrow. He quietly listened as his father scolded him for interrupting him and ordered him to go and study. Sylvain silently followed the orders.

Just as he quietly waved his parents and brother off when they left a few days later, leaving Sylvain alone with the staff to take care of him.

…What a coward he was…

While the rest of his family was gone, Sylvain got plenty of invitations from noble families to play with their children. He smiled and laughed as he accepted them, knowing that if his parents learned he was declining or otherwise avoiding them it would be more trouble than it was worth. But Sylvain understood what these noble families truly wanted.

“Lord Sylvain, how have your parents been? And your brother? I haven’t seen him around recently.”

“Your family went on a trip? Did they mention where? It just seems sad to not include you.”

“Oh, Lord Sylvain, I’ve heard you’ve been working hard recently. Is your brother working just as hard?”

The questions seemed innocent enough on the surface, but Sylvain had learned enough about how the world worked to understand. Gossip. Rumors. They just wanted some juicy information they could spread, smiling to his face while snickering about his family behind his back. It was never him they wanted, but what they could get out of him.

He was so, so, _so_ tired…

But then came Felix, heir to the Fraldarius family.

He had heard plenty of the boy while he was growing up, mostly that he was a loner who preferred to keep to himself. There were plenty of other rumors spreading about him, apparently including information on a friend he was said to have had a recent falling out with, but Sylvain ignored those rumors and never tried to seek them out, only wanting an idea of Felix’s character, not his personal issues. For someone like Felix to seek him out was quite a surprise. But Sylvain knew how it worked, he supposed even loners enjoyed gossip now and then.

However, Felix never asked about his family. Never even gave a hint that he wished to. It threw Sylvain off, his stomach turning as hours passed and Felix never once brought up any of the rumors. Sylvain couldn’t take it anymore and confronted him about it, tired of not knowing what Felix’s deal was, tired of everyone else.

Rebellion. Felix wanted to rebel and decided to befriend Sylvain because he was interesting. That was what he said. It was so different, so odd, so unbelievably honest for a noble. 

Yet Sylvain felt lighter than he had in years.

Felix’s unflinching honesty, drive for competition, and sarcastic remarks were like a breath of fresh air. He no longer felt a weight on his chest when he laughed. He could talk freely with Felix without the fear that he said too much.

Truly, if Felix hadn’t come to him when he did…Well, Sylvain didn’t want to think of the road he had been heading down…

“Your family isn’t back yet?” Felix asked once when the pair had come inside after a short sparring session.

“No, but they’ll be back soon enough,” Sylvain remembered the last letter his parents sent mentioned they were just two weeks of travel away from the Gautier territory, “…And they’re bringing my brother back too.”

Felix quietly looked at him as they changed their clothes.

“If you have something to say, spit it out,” Sylvain muttered.

Felix blinked in surprise before letting out a snort of laughter.

“Where have I heard _that_ before?” he said with a smirk, the corners of Sylvain’s mouth twitching in response, “…Your face looks weird sometimes, when you talk about your brother.”

“Weird?” Sylvain repeated as the pair finished changing their clothes, taking a seat in a couple chairs facing a large window.

“Like a strange mix of happy and angry. I didn’t even know you _could_ mix those two.”

A mix of happy and angry. Yes, Sylvain supposed that described his feelings regarding his brother nowadays. He couldn’t be happier that his parents were bringing his brother home, that they hadn’t decided to leave him behind somewhere without telling him. And yet Sylvain was already preparing himself to be angry at how much his brother had definitely changed during the trip. How much worse would he have gotten, having been trapped with no one but their parents?

“Felix,” Sylvain called softly, “…What do you think of crests?”

“Where’d that come from?” Felix raised an eyebrow. When Sylvain just kept staring at him, he sighed, “Honestly, I don’t think that much about them. It’s pretty useful having one though.”

“What’s it like?” Sylvain watched as Felix stared at his hand, as if trying to look at the power of the crest flowing through his veins, “Having a major crest?”

Major crest bearers were so rare in recent times, there were even talks that in two or three generations there wouldn’t be anyone who held a major crest. Even the heirs to Fodlan’s ruling powers were minor crest bearers themselves. Felix was one of the lucky few of Fodlan’s nobility who was born as a major crest bearer.

“It’s always something in the background,” Felix explained slowly, still staring at his hand, “You know it’s there but it’s not like it’s distracting or anything.”

That much was the same for Sylvain, a minor crest bearer. Under his skin was a gentle pulse, a thrum of energy flowing from the top of his head to his body, to his arms and legs all the way to his digits. It was unnoticeable unless he concentrated and searched for it. But it gave him a boost that helped him in his spars and training sessions, allowing him to go farther and last longer than those without crests might.

“But when my crest activates…” Felix clenched his fist, a gleam in his eyes, “I feel powerful, stronger than anyone else. For that moment I can see more, hear more. It’s…a rush.”

And that was where Sylvain’s own experience veered off. He had an idea what Felix was speaking about. Just earlier during their sparring session, Sylvain had seen a shift in Felix’s expression, in the way he held his body. A sign, Felix had later explained, that his crest had activated. Sylvain had braced himself as Felix’s pupils dilated, Felix’s hands tightening around his practice sword, his mouth in a straight line. When Felix darted forward, slamming his sword against Sylvain’s, Sylvain grunted as he crashed against the ground hard. His whole body ached as he gasped for air, briefly reminded of the pain he felt when he was once kicked in the back by a horse.

“I see,” Sylvain said, staring at the floor.

“…This is about your brother, isn’t it?”

The question was asked so easily. If it had been anyone else, Sylvain would’ve gotten angry but smiled and come up with an excuse for them to leave. But this was Felix, who never really cared about this sort of thing. Sylvain knew that Felix was giving him a choice. If he wanted to speak, Felix would hear him out. If he wished to remain silent, Felix would accept it without a second thought. Sylvain had spent so long keeping his thoughts to himself, it was almost second nature.

…And yet…

“My brother can be a great heir,” he whispered, “He’s really smart and he was always so kind to me when we were younger. You would’ve loved to fight him, he’s great with weapons…He was my idol.”

He laces his fingers together, eyes locked on the floor, stomach twisting.

“But…because he was born without a crest, because I was born with one, he…”

It was chance, a stroke of fate. Crests were important but Sylvain still didn’t understand if they were so important that his brother had to suffer for not being born with one. But Sylvain also wondered, feared, if perhaps he had stolen his brother’s future from him…If perhaps his brother believed Sylvain was a thief who ruined his life.

While he kept staring at the floor, he heard Felix get up from his chair and walk over to him. Without warning, Felix reached out and flicked Sylvain’s nose… _hard_.

“You’re an idiot,” Felix frowned while Sylvain rubbed his nose, “Blaming yourself for things you can’t control.”

“I know it’s stupid!” Sylvain answered, shooting Felix a glare, “I know…but my brother has changed so much over the past few years, and-”

“People change. Whether they want to or not…Whether we can do anything about it or not.”

Felix had a faraway look in his eyes. It happened sometimes when they were together. And each time Sylvain wondered, but could never bring himself to ask, what Felix was thinking about. Sometimes he wondered if it had something to do with the friend he’d supposedly had a falling out with. It was strange, the idea of someone so quick to speak his mind like Felix having secrets he kept close. But Felix had never pried into Sylvain’s life, and Sylvain was forever grateful for it, so Sylvain himself would never push for him to reveal anything. Just as quickly as the expression had come across Felix’s face, it vanished, Felix putting his hands on his hips and looking annoyed at Sylvain.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Felix stated firmly, “Only idiots blame themselves for things that aren’t their fault.”

…Then maybe Sylvain truly was an idiot. Felix always made things sound simple, maybe too simpler than they really were at times. But his straightforward nature was so refreshing, it was easy to get caught in his flow. To forget those thoughts and worries for a little while. This time was no different. Sylvain let out a sigh and grinned at Felix, standing up and inviting him to go play with his father’s hunting dogs.

It wasn’t his fault he was born with a crest, just as it wasn’t his fault his brother was born without one. It wasn’t his fault that his parents decided to put his brother through all of this. It wasn’t his fault that they couldn’t see his brother for the brilliant heir he could be. It wasn’t his fault they had turned their eyes on him, essentially made him replace his brother. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault.

He’d keep repeating that phrase until the day came that he believed it.

~~~~~~~~

_“Have you heard what they’re saying? That Gautier boy, Lord Sylvain, has apparently won Prince Dimitri’s favor!”_

_“Yes, I’ve heard! The prince, the Fraldarius heir, the second Gautier son, and that young girl from House Galatea have become close with each other.”_

_“His Highness has become a proper prince at last but now that devilish Fraldarius boy is back by his side? Oh, that boy will corrupt our prince, he’ll be back to his wild self once more! And to think our crown prince is associating with the Galatea girl, as if her family isn’t a mockery to Faerghus’ esteemed nobility.”_

_“I’m worried about the Gautier child too. It’s truly a shame his brother doesn’t have a crest, at least he was an ideal heir otherwise. The second son doesn’t stand out much, and he’s always running about and playing instead of focusing on his duties. He seems so…irresponsible, flippant.”_

_“Agreed. I don’t see that boy being much of a positive influence in their little group.”_

When his friendship with Felix led him to Dimitri and Ingrid, Sylvain felt complete for the first time in years.

Dimitri was a kind boy, intelligent and calm, but also awkward in a way Sylvain found endearing. He had remembered old rumors that claimed Dimitri used to be a hellion, but seeing the boy in front of him, Sylvian figured there was no way those rumors could possibly be true. When Felix had told him that he was friends with the prince for years, Sylvain couldn’t see how such opposite people became so close. But it was obvious they treasured each other, even if the pair seemed too awkward to be honest with each other about that. Ingrid was more put together than most people her age, strong of heart and mind, and adorable in her love for knights and good food. There wasn’t a noble house in Faerghus that hadn’t heard of House Galatea’s financial troubles, and Sylvain could only imagine how it must feel to have that hanging over one’s head. But Ingrid herself was so easy to love, it didn’t take long at all for Sylvain to consider her a precious friend.

The crown prince of Faerghus, a friendly and brave boy, their little leader. The heir to House Fraldarius, rebellious and fierce, the second-in-command. The daughter of House Galatea, knightly and stubborn, the voice of reason. And then there was him, the second son of House Gautier, the one who set the mood, the jokester. A group of children Sylvain would have never expected to come together, but a group he held dear to him. Once their friendship was solidified, they spent so much time together, doing anything from simple games in the guest halls to getting up to all sorts of trouble. Although, to be fair, it was Sylvain and Felix who were the troublemakers of their group, Dimitri frantically apologizing or covering for them while Ingrid sternly scolded them like a mother.

But once in a while all four of them would get themselves involved in some misadventures. For example, their little trip to the secret routes hidden beneath the royal castle.

It wasn’t uncommon for castles or other large estates to have secret underground passages. The purpose of such passages was to get the members of the residence to safety in case of the worst emergencies. However, they weren’t places to play in, and their group had been warned time and time again to stay away from the passages, since their long and winding routes would be easy to get lost in without a guide.

But even though Dimitri was cautious, even though Ingrid didn’t like causing unnecessary trouble…the four of them couldn’t help their curiosity. 

“Remember, keep quiet and don’t tell anyone,” Felix whispered as Dimitri led them to a small room hidden away in the back of the castle.

“I’m starting to have second thoughts,” Ingrid said, nervously checking over her shoulder once they reached the room and Dimitri walked up to the unlit fireplace.

“…Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Dimitri’s hand hovered over one of the stones in the wall above the fireplace.

“C’mon, you scaredy-cats!” Sylvain laughed, only to be quickly shushed by the other three, “What happened to all that bravado you had earlier when we agreed to check out the passages?”

Dimitri looked uncertain for a second longer before he took a breath and pressed the stone, making it sink deep into the wall as the fireplace slowly moved, revealing a set of stairs leading to complete darkness. Dimitri grabbed one of the torches on the walls and pulled a tinderbox he had grabbed earlier out of his pocket, using it to light the torch. The four of them crowded around the entrance and looked down the stairs. Even with the gentle light of the torch, it looked so eerie, cobwebs everywhere, strange shadows on the walls, and the distant sound of wind whistling. Sylvain was starting to second guess their adventure himself…

“…Ladies first…” Felix mumbled.

Ingrid shot Felix a fierce glare, though she did snatch the torch from Dimitri’s hands, marching down the stairs into the creepy, cold darkness. Dimitri and Felix shared a look and followed her, Sylvain bringing up the rear of their group. Their footsteps echoed, the light from the torch shifting the shadows on the walls. Sylvain and Felix both laughed when Dimitri suddenly yelped and sputtered, having walked directly into a spider’s web. Ingrid snapped back at them to shut up, though she kept her eyes locked to what was in front of her, her hands so tightly wrapped around the torch that they were white.

Once they reached the foot of the stairs the boys almost crashed into Ingrid, who had frozen in place, holding the torch close. In the dimly lit area, Sylvain could make out what looked like three large holes. Dimitri pried the torch from Ingrid’s death grip and held it out, making the three holes, or three entrances to different passages to be more accurate, easier to see. 

“Hey, Dimitri?” Felix crossed his arms in front of him, frowning at the three passages, “Why’re there three of them?”

“A safety measure,” Dimitri replied, observing the passages carefully, “If any enemies find the secret entrance, there are hundreds of false pathways that lead to dead ends or circle back. Buying time for the royal family to escape.”

“ _Hundreds_?” Sylvain repeated, scratching the back of his neck, “And _how_ exactly are you supposed to find your way through then, milord?”

“Guides, for one thing. There are a select number of people in the castle trained to know their way through these passages. And, in the worst-case scenario, it’s tradition for the royal family to commit the correct path to memory themselves. Father says he could navigate his way through here blindfolded!”

“So, you know the way then, milord?” Ingrid asked hopefully.

“Ah, well…” Dimitri flushed, pointing to the far right passage, “I know for certain that one is the correct starting point, but…”

“But we can’t rely on you, got it,” Felix interrupted, walking towards the passage Dimitri had pointed at, “So long as we don’t go too far and remember which paths we chose, we’ll be fine.”

“But I don’t wanna get stuck down here!” Sylvain shouted as he followed Felix, “I got a lot of living I wanna do!”

“Who’s the scaredy-cat now, Sylvain?”

“Felix, wait a moment!” Dimitri jogged towards Felix, “I should lead the way. My memory isn’t perfect, but I have some idea of how the next few paths work.”

“I’m already regretting this whole trip,” Ingrid let out a groan before walking to Sylvain, clutching the back of his shirt in one hand, “I’m sorry, Sylvain, do you mind?”

“Not at all!” he grinned at her, before calling out playfully to the other two, “Dimitri! Felix! Either of you want to hold hands so we don’t get lost?”

Dimitri seemed to genuinely consider the idea for a moment before his cheeks turned pink and he mumbled that he was fine. Felix, on the other hand, called Sylvain a few choice names that made Ingrid and Dimitri simultaneously let out scandalized gasps, Sylvain’s laughter echoing throughout the passage.

The four of them slowly, carefully, made their way through passage after passage, Dimitri leading the way. Sylvain wasn’t sure what he wanted or expected from their little adventure. When hearing of “secret passages”, it was easy to imagine something grand, a path leading to special treasures or interesting mysteries. But the passages they walked through were all similar looking, all dark, cold, and quiet except for the distant whistling wind. Spiders and their webs everywhere. At first, other than Ingrid clinging to his back, they had all been spaced out as they walked. But as they walked on, they all got closer and closer, to the point that there was barely an inch of space between the four of them. 

“Sh-should we go back?” Dimitri asked quietly once they reached four more branching passages. 

“…We’ve been walking for a while,” Felix looked back the way they had come, “If we wanna avoid trouble, it’d probably be a good idea to head back now.”

“I-I agree with Felix!” Ingrid let go of Sylvain’s shirt, already walking back to the passage they had come from, “We’re not going to find anything else, so it would be best that we-”

“What are those?” Sylvain interrupted, pointing.

The others followed the direction of his point to one of the four passages ahead of them. There were a couple dozen…glowing dots. Dimitri took a couple quick steps back, bumping into Felix, Ingrid letting out a small groan. Sylvain bent down and picked up a small rock, throwing it into the passage with the dots.

The second the rock disappeared into the darkness of the passage, a chorus of cries and the flapping of wings filled the air, a cloud of black flying out of the passage, straight at the four of them.

Bats?

Ingrid let out a shrill shriek and ran in a panic into one of the passages behind them. Sylvain, Dimitri, and Felix all scrambled to go after her, trying to call for her to stop. Sylvian had no idea how she was running so much when Dimitri still had the torch, but at least it was easy enough to keep track of her by following her yells. Eventually the boys caught up to Ingrid, who was sitting on the ground, back pressed against the wall, panting heavily.

“Were you…always…that fast…Ingrid?” Felix breathed heavily, plopping to the ground on the opposite side of the passage.

“You’re okay…right?” Dimitri asked between gasps for air, fixing the torch to a nearby empty sconce before taking a seat next to Felix.

“Y-yes,” Ingrid dug her fingers into her hair, eyebrows furrowed, “I’m so sorry…I can’t believe I panicked like that…Over something so _stupid_!”

“I was the one who bothered those bats,” Sylvain sat beside Ingrid, an apologetic smile on his face, “Sorry about that, Ingrid.”

“Well, now what?” Felix asked, gesturing around them, “Where are we?”

They looked around, not recognizing any of their surroundings. Not that any of the passages looked distinct to begin with. They had all been too busy running to pay attention to which passages they were going through. The light from the torch seemed so much smaller than it had when they first entered this place, making the darkness so much more foreboding. The wind whistling through the passages was adding to the unsettling feeling. Sylvain gulped as he remembered Dimitri’s words about how there were hundreds of routes, and how easy it would be to lose one’s way down here.

“I should have paid closer attention to where we were running,” Dimitri chewed on one of his nails as he looked around.

“It’s not your fault,” Ingrid sniffled, eyes beginning to water, “I keep saying that I want to become a fine knight, and yet I got scared of a few little bats, of all things!”

“Ingrid, it’s my fault, I should’ve insisted that we not come down here to begin with.”

“Dimitri, stop blaming yourself! I’m the one who ran off on her own and-”

“Pah, would you two quit it already?” Felix snapped at them. Dimitri and Ingrid quickly shut their mouths, looking at Felix, who hugged his knees to his chest as he stared at the ground, “…I…I was the one who pushed us to check this place out…”

The tension in the air was thick as the group sat on the dirty ground, with no knowledge of which way they should go and the dwindling flame from the torch being their only source of light. Sylvain looked at the others, at the way Dimitri was wringing his hands, at the tears Ingrid was wiping away, at Felix chewing on his bottom lip. 

Dimitri was their gallant leader who stayed strong for them even when he didn’t have to, Felix was their second-in-command who challenged them and the world, and Ingrid was the one who kept them in line with her strong will. Sylvain’s role was to make them laugh, to tell his jokes and be the unserious mood maker of their group.

…But wasn’t he also the oldest of the four of them?

“Alright, that’s enough moping around!” Sylvain fixed a wide smile on his face, clapping his hands to get everyone else’s attention on him, “Everyone in the castle’s gonna notice we’re missing soon enough, we disappeared before lunch! And we left the entrance to this place wide open, they’ll know we came down here. If we just stay put, they’ll find us soon enough.”

“…Sylvain is right,” Dimitri smiled at him before continuing, “We just need to be patient.”

“And I know the best way to pass the time!”

Sylvain moved so that he sat almost directly under the sconce they had set their torch on, motioning for the others to gather around him. Once they had settled themselves in a semicircle in front of Sylvain, he leaned forward with an eager look.

“Let me tell you a story of long ago,” Sylvain closed his eyes, his voice flowing, “A story of a continent named Tellius.”

“Tellius?” Ingrid repeated, “That’s a mythical land, isn’t it? I think I’ve read fairy tales about it.”

“Is it?” Dimitri looked thoughtful, “I could’ve sworn it was the name of a real place from long ago.”

“If you’re getting into a history lesson, I’m gonna take my chances getting lost in this stupid place,” Felix started to rise from his spot.

“Would you guys just let me tell the story?” Sylvain yanked Felix back down before adopting his storyteller persona once more, “As I was saying, Tellius was a beautiful continent, with vast green forests, deserts of golden sand, and gorgeous snowy regions…”

Sylvain told the story of the war that threatened Tellius as a whole. Of a young man named Ike and the mercenaries he travelled with, of the young princess of Crimea who was forced to flee her homeland, of the Daein kingdom’s invasion led by Ashnard, of the child empress named Sanaki, of a species that could shift between human and animal forms called laguz, of a young woman named Micaiah, of another war that ended in a battle against a goddess. It was a long and complicated tale, filled with battles and tragedies, with victories and peace, complex moral choices and plenty of players. It was always one of Sylvain’s favorite stories. 

Dimitri couldn’t learn enough about the story of the laguz and the discrimination they faced, as well as the discrimination towards the half-human, half-laguz people called the Branded. Dimitri would either interrupt with questions about the history behind the laguz and clarifications about their cultures and interactions with each other or sit with rapt attention when Sylvain spoke of events such as the Serenes Massacre or the tragic fate of Rajaion. Ingrid became quickly invested in the story of Princess Elincia of Crimea, from her upbringing in secrecy to her escape from her homeland to her years as a queen. Ingrid’s eyes sparkled as Sylvain spoke of Elincia’s grace and quiet dignity, of how she did her best for the people and made difficult decisions as a leader, of how she took to the battlefield herself atop her flying mount, sword and staff in hand. Felix, while trying to act like he didn’t care much, always sat up straighter whenever Sylvain spoke of the battles that were fought across the wars in Tellius. The second Sylvain started detailing the clashes between opposing forces, Felix’s hands would clench when the heroes of the tale would be against seemingly impossible odds and unclench once they got the upper hand, the battle between Ike’s forces and the goddess at the end of the tale even making Felix lean forward with wide, shining eyes. 

…It reminded Sylvain of his brother, of the nights when Sylvain would have trouble falling asleep and his parents considered him too old to come to them or his nannies for comfort. Sylvain would visit his brother on those nights, and his brother would allow Sylvain into his bed and tell him stories of faraway lands, mythical and real, just like this until Sylvain was asleep. And then his brother would gently carry him back to his own room and tuck him in.

…It was nice to be the one telling the story for a change…

After quite some time had passed, a few guards showed up in the passage and found the four children, Sylvain greeting them with a tired smile. Ingrid had her head on his lap, Dimitri curled up against his left side, Felix leaning against his right side, all sound asleep.

Despite the lengthy lecture the four received from the furious king and queen, Sylvain came to treasure the memory of their misadventure in those secret passages dearly.

~~~~~~~~

_“I’ve heard that Lord Sylvain, from House Gautier, has become quite the flirt in recent years.”_

_“I’ve heard the same. They say the boy will go after any pretty face wearing a skirt.”_

_“How embarrassing it must be for the Duke and Duchess, having their son becoming infamous for leading on ladies like a common cad!”_

_“Indeed! Doesn’t he feel any shame? He’s damaging his own reputation, and he’s making his parents look just as foolish when rumors spread about his antics. And he’s friends with our crown prince! How terrible it must be for the prince to be associated with that boy.”_

_“Honestly…Who knows if that Gautier boy has a shred of sense in his body?”_

Flirting was simple enough to Sylvain, even if he didn’t always get results.

He no longer remembered the first time he flirted with a girl, or how it turned out. He didn’t remember what the girl looked like or what made him decide to flirt with her. But whatever happened on that day, flirting became a habit. 

The cute young countess with the lovely black curls, the sweet little brunette who worked at the baker’s, that one red haired member of the town guard who looked like she could break him in half, and many more. Sylvain would flash a winning smile and charm, charm, charm until the ladies were blushing bright red, walking off with a sneer, or laughing like mad. 

It was fun, a little stress relief, especially on those days when his parents were getting on his last nerve, on days when his brother directed cold, bitter looks in his direction. He remembered when the rumors about Sylvain’s flirtations first reached home. His brother had only raised an eyebrow at him, one of the most positive experiences he’d had with him in years. His mother started off on a tangent about her poor little boy becoming corrupted or whatever. His father had fixed him the sharpest glare, and Sylvain cursed himself internally for flinching at it, as if he was that same little boy who tried to stand up to his father once upon time, only to freeze when it truly counted. 

Who cared anymore? It was just for fun. And Sylvain would never take it too far, he worked very hard to make sure of that. He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

But his mother had asked him once if he took any of the girls he flirted with seriously, if he wanted something more with them. Sylvain could see through his mother’s question, both surprised yet not that his mother was already trying to fix him up with a potential bride at his age, and had given a neutral answer that seemed to satisfy her. And yet the question stuck with him for hours and days and weeks after. 

Taking it seriously. He took it seriously in the sense of avoiding crossing lines, avoiding hurting the girls he chatted with. But the flirting itself was always lighthearted, simple compliments and jokes that were meant to bring smiles. Maybe a brush of fingers once or twice if things were going especially well. With the girls that were soldiers or in the guard, he’d even offer to “help” with training. 

But was it serious, at _any_ point? 

…Perhaps, once or twice, there was a girl he became fond of, that he wanted to talk with a lot more, see so much more. And yet he never tried to pursue anything with those girls. He’d simply flirt for a while, maybe convince them to come along for some tea or go on a walk, and then let them leave afterwards. The next time he saw them they would have found themselves some new beaus or would otherwise make eye contact, blush, and look away awkwardly…or keep watching him longingly…

But Sylvain still wouldn’t try to make it serious, pretending that he didn’t notice those girls or offering them no more than a casual greeting or a wave of his hand. He didn’t understand himself at times.

Sometimes he wanted to be closer. But not too close, so he’d find the quickest way to send them off. Sometimes he wanted to be more sincere. But not too sincere, so he made more jokes and talk of shallow topics. Sometimes…just sometimes…he wanted to be serious about this. But, at the same time, the thought twisted his gut.

He wanted a connection. But the thought of a connection made him want to run. It was nice to imagine a future with a sweet girl. But it was terrifying, making his mouth dry, his heart beat frantically. It was fun to flirt around, to takes things casually…But at the same time no, it wasn’t…His mind would constantly race, palms sweating…What was scaring him so much about it? Why couldn’t he handle something like this, something even as simple as _this_ , without overthinking?

…Did he want love? Or didn’t he?

How annoying, that this was one of the few subjects he was so contradictory about.

Well, even though his family didn’t find much to enjoy about Sylvain’s flirting, even though Sylvain himself couldn’t figure out his own true feelings on the subject, some others found plenty to enjoy in watching him woo pretty ladies. Namely, his supposed best friends, who enjoyed making bets about him whenever they caught him chatting with a girl.

Such as when he tried to flirt with a pretty blonde marchioness in the town square, only for the girl to let out a dismissive laugh and walk away without looking twice at him. It was only five minutes. That was probably a new rejection record. When Sylvain had turned around to start on his way back home, he saw Dimitri, Ingrid, and Felix all watching him from just a few feet away.

“Five minutes!” Ingrid said with a smug grin, “I win again, boys.”

“Ugh, you’re _way_ too good at this,” Felix grumbled, crossing his arms in front of him as he shot Ingrid an annoyed look.

“I don’t know why we bother competing with her anymore,” Dimitri sighed.

“Seriously? Another bet?” Sylvain asked as he walked up to the group, hands on his hips.

“My thanks, Sylvain,” Ingrid smiled brightly, “You’ve won me as much strawberry shortcake as I can eat! All expenses paid, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dimitri and Felix groaned, both patting their coin pouches mournfully.

“If we’re talking free dessert, I want in!” Sylvain grinned.

“I don’t remember betting with _you_!” Felix glared at him. 

“Now that you’re here though, Sylvain, we must talk about your…um…skirt chasing,” Dimitri adopted a stern look, fitting for a crown prince yet somehow unfitting for a topic like flirting, the lightest dusting of pink across his cheeks.

“I agree, you need to get better at it. I’m gonna go broke if I keep losing to Ingrid!”

“…I meant that it was improper with how often he was doing it, Felix…”

“As much as I enjoy winning free food from these bets, I must agree with Dimitri,” Ingrid said seriously, “…You do realize how people are talking about you, don’t you, Sylvain? None of them are treating you seriously.”

“What else is new?” Sylvain scoffed, “I was never a serious guy to begin with.”

At that statement, Felix narrowed his eyes at him, Sylvain doing his best not to make eye contact. But it was true, wasn’t it? The second son who always ran off to play, a silly smile plastered on his face, seemingly unconcerned with the problems his family faced. That was how everyone saw him, that was the attitude he gave off. As far as anyone was concerned, Sylvain Jose Gautier was as far from serious as could be. 

…And that was fine with him… _It was_ …

Sylvain realized he had been quiet for a bit too long when he noticed the concerned expressions Dimitri and Ingrid were giving him, the way Felix was side-eyeing him. Damn, he had to keep better track of himself.

“It’s alright,” he told them, “I’m happy with who I am, truly. People can question my seriousness all they want, I don’t give a damn.”

“…If you say so…” Dimitri looked unconvinced, but he let it go, Felix and Ingrid following suit.

“Besides, if you three are going to keep up these bets, I’ll have to change tactics…Maybe mess up a little more now and then, so long as I get a cut of the winner’s reward…?”

“Damn it, Sylvain, with the way Ingrid eats, you're just gonna cost me and the boar all the money we have,” Felix snapped, wincing when Ingrid swatted his arm, Dimitri trying and failing to smother a laugh behind his hand.

“But honestly, guys, I’m hurt,” Sylvain teased, pleased the mood was lighter again, “Not one of you had any faith in me this time?”

“Not a bit,” Felix answered bluntly, “But if it makes you feel better, I bet you’d last seven minutes.”

“And Ingrid won by betting five minutes. So, what about you, milord? You didn’t believe in your poor old buddy?”

“Come now, Sylvain,” Dimitri smiled warmly, “I believe someone as friendly and caring as you can be a fine suitor for whoever you wish!”

“Aww, you really are a flatterer!” Sylvain chuckled at the prince’s sweet words, “So, what was your bet then?”

“One minute.”

It was expected that there would be talk around the kingdom when the citizens saw the second son of the Gautier family yelling at and chasing the broadly smiling crown prince through the streets, the Fraldarius heir laughing at the top of his lungs as he ran after them, a young lady from House Galatea following close behind, yelling at them to be careful between her own laughs. 

But if those four young nobles of Faerghus cared about all the talk, they never showed it.

~~~~~~~~

_“Did you hear? The oldest Gautier child, the original heir, has been officially disowned from the family. They say he’s been shipped off to live in one of the old castles at the outskirts of the region.”_

_“Where have you been, that happened a while ago! The talk nowadays is about how the second son has been officially named heir at last. They held the ceremony recently.”_

_“Out with the old, in with the new. That second son doesn’t seem like much of a reliable heir. Jokes arounds, flirts with any pretty lady he sees, not a serious bone in his body, no remarkable achievements. It really is a shame his brother was born without a crest; he would have been a fine heir.”_

_“You would think that now that he’s officially the marquess of the Gautier family he would be better at his duties. By I hear he’s barely ever left the house since the ceremony that named him heir! And the few times he did leave were because the Duke and Duchess made him!”_

_“I suppose some things never change. The boy won’t amount to much at all, will he?”_

The day had arrived, so many years after Sylvain first realized it would happen. His brother was disinherited, officially kicked out of the estate and shipped off far away. And even though Sylvain could travel to his brother’s new home, he knew better. It was the end.

As of now, his brother was officially dead to him. His parents made that _very_ clear.

He was fine with that. It had been years since his brother had a kind word for him, gave him a gentle look. They barely ever talked anymore, even during the few times they were in the same room. The warm, loving brother of Sylvain’s childhood was simply a memory, locked away deep in his mind. So, this was all fine… _He_ was fine…

…At least, he _thought_ he was fine with it…

But, much like the little boy of so long ago who didn’t understand anything, Sylvain still didn’t know much at all, at least not much about himself. He realized that on the day his brother was to leave. Sylvain didn’t try to see him, to say goodbye. He hadn’t felt the need to, even though his head was pounding…Even though his stomach was twisting and turning in ways that made him want to throw up.

Instead, Sylvain went to the small music room in the Gautier estate, seating himself at the piano. He didn’t play the piano as much as he did when he was a child, only playing now and then with his friends in recent years. Sylvain slowly flipped through the pages of sheet music until he came across a piece that he loved. He set the sheet music in place and began to play.

Slow, gentle notes filled the air of the room as Sylvain played through the piece. If he remembered right, it was supposed to be a mournful song, of two souls searching for eternity for something important, never allowed to meet. A tragic song, so unfitting Sylvain’s usual tastes. And yet he had always adored the piece, playing it over and over, no matter how many times his music tutor begged him to move on to other songs.

Sylvain heard the click of the music room door and turned his head, expecting one of the servants.

Instead he saw his brother, dressed to leave, staring at him blankly.

Ah…He pressed the wrong key…It was supposed to be a C sharp, not a B flat…Sylvain forced his eyes back to the piano keys, yet he couldn’t find the tempo again. He was half an octave off...

As Sylvain desperately tried to get the melody back on track, he heard his brother’s slow footsteps getting closer and closer. Damn it, the score was right in front of him! His eyes were working just fine, so _why couldn’t he get it right_?

Sylvain completely froze when his brother took a seat beside him on the bench, their arms just barely brushing. Sylvain’s eyes remained locked on his fingers, trembling so slightly, before he forced himself to glance over at his brother, whose eyes were shut.

Breathe…He just needed to breathe…

Sylvain looked back at the score and his fingers started to move once more. There. He’d found the tempo, the octave. The melody would falter the times their arms brushed against each other, but he would find it once again.

Just play. Just play…Play, play, _play_ …

As Sylvain reached the final notes of the song, he finally remembered. Remembered the day he fell in love with this song…The day his brother first taught it to him, back when he was too young to understand anything…

The final note sounded, and Sylvain’s hands fell to his lap, his eyes still fixed on the score. It was so quiet…so, _so_ quiet…Out of the corner of his eye, Sylvain saw his brother reach a hand towards him. He stiffened, shutting his eyes tightly, reminding himself to breathe, breathe, _breathe_.

A touch of fingers through his hair, so agonizingly gentle, so achingly familiar. Sylvain's eyes shot open, but he still couldn’t bring himself to turn his head, to look, just one more time.

“…Goodbye, Sylvain…”

By the time Sylvain willed himself to look, his brother had already stood up and headed to the door. Sylvain opened his mouth several times, trying desperately to call out, to say anything at all, but his voice wouldn’t come out. And it still didn’t come out when his brother left, shutting the door behind him.

…It was over. It was truly all over now…

By the time Sylvain noticed the tears streaming down his face, he was already hunched over the piano keys. No one came to get him, even when his wails echoed through the too quiet room and into the halls.

Just a month later, his parents held a grand ceremony officially naming Sylvain as the heir to House Gautier. Sylvain could never remember anything that happened that day, anything he said, no matter how often he tried. The days passed and passed, yet his memories wouldn’t work, wouldn’t tell him what had happened. All he knew was that he stayed in his room, that occasionally he’d get letters from his friends that he would respond to with claims that he was merely sick, a contagious illness so they can’t come see him.

Of course, since his parents were around, they knew he was merely locking himself away in his room. He remembered them dragging him out for a couple trips, but otherwise they left him alone. Something about how he’d “stop being selfish” soon enough. 

Ah…well…maybe he would get better soon enough…It had only been around a month since he’d been named heir after all…

One morning, a few days after he’d returned home from some trip to Charon with his parents, he’d heard a strange noise outside his bedroom window. When Sylvain glanced over at the window, he saw a shadow climbing over the balcony, hidden by the curtains.

A human shadow.

“ _Damn_ ,” he hissed to himself as he got to his feet, looking around for a weapon.

Grabbing a nearby vase, the best he had on hand, he pressed himself against the wall near the window, waiting for the figure to enter, wondering how bad the estate’s guards were at their jobs that an intruder got this far. The second the figure opened the unlocked window and stepped through, Sylvain swung the vase down…

…Only for the figure to grab him by the wrists and throw him to the ground, the vase shattering on the ground next to him.

“Oh _shit_ , Sylvain, it’s you!”

There was Felix, staring down at him with surprise, Sylvain meeting the gaze with equal surprise. 

“Felix? Is everything alright?”

Felix went back to the balcony at the familiar voice’s call, looking down. 

“It’s fine, start climbing, Dimitri!”

Within minutes, there was Dimitri climbing onto the balcony. He pulled up a makeshift rope made of what seemed like bedsheets, the method they used to get up there in the first place. Dimitri stared at Sylvain, still laying on the ground, before glaring at Felix.

“What did you do?” he asked him as he helped Sylvain to his feet.

“Nothing, _he’s_ the one who tried to brain me with a vase!”

“Why did you two come through the balcony?” Sylvain asked, interrupting the pair before they started another stupid argument between them.

“We figured you were lying about being sick a while ago,” Felix explained as Dimitri picked up the vase fragments and set them on a nearby table, “We wanted to visit, but we figured if you really wanted to avoid us, you’d make up some excuse to keep us out. So, the boar and I decided on a different route.”

“I told him I could simply use my status as a prince to let us in,” Dimitri shot Felix a look, “But, of course, _somebody_ wanted to do things the hard way…That being said, you must speak with your guards about their patrol patterns, this was far too easy to do.”

Sylvain stared at them for a moment…It really had been a while since he’d seen them. Neither of them looked different at all, it had only been a month, and yet it was like it had been years since they last met. Dimitri’s expression quickly grew concerned as he regarded Sylvain’s face.

“…Maybe you’re sick after all? You look so pale…”

“I’m alright. Why are you guys here?” Sylvain asked as he gently pushed Dimitri’s hand away before he touched his face.

“Ingrid fell off her stupid Pegasus a few days ago,” Felix said, “We’re here to drag you with us to visit her.”

“ _Fell off her_ -?”

“She’s fine, other than an injured ankle,” Dimitri quickly cut Sylvain off before he panicked, “Felix was there so she didn’t get hurt too badly. But she’ll be bedridden for a while. We want to go and cheer her up!”

“I just wanna laugh at her,” Felix stated.

“Of course you do…Will you come along, Sylvain? It’ll be quite the trip from here to Galatea, but…”

It _was_ quite the trip, the Gautier territory bordered Sreng while Galatea was close to the mountains bordering Leicester. But he hadn’t seen Ingrid in a while…And if she was bedridden, if he didn’t take this chance, it’d be even longer until he saw her…It had truly been so long since he was with Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid. Goddess above, he didn’t even realize until this moment how much he missed them. For the first time since the ceremony, since his brother had left, Sylvain felt _alive_.

He wanted to be with them. He wanted to go on the trip.

But…

“I’d need permission from my father first,” Sylvain muttered.

“Go get it then,” Felix gestured to the door, “We’ll wait for you.”

Really, Felix always made things sound so easy…Well, if he mentioned he was travelling with the crown prince, perhaps it would be okay. But it was a personal trip, another example of Sylvain being “selfish”.

“…Do you want me to talk to him?” Dimitri asked quietly.

…What was Sylvain doing…? Did he honestly need someone else to talk for him? To get permission on his behalf? Was he still a child who knew nothing?

“No, give me a few minutes…I’ll be right back.” 

His father was seated at his desk, doing his work. Work that would one day be Sylvain’s to finish. But right now, he was just Sylvain, and this was his father. If he thought like that, he could get through it. He called for his father’s attention, telling him of Ingrid’s injury, that he’d been invited on a trip to go see her in Galatea.

It was amazing how quickly his father said no, even though Sylvain mentioned he’d be travelling with Dimitri. As far as his father was concerned, Sylvain could send a simple letter to her. He’d been falling behind on his studies as an heir. If he was feeling better, he should focus on that.

“But I want to go.”

His father slammed a fist on his desk and glared at him, and for a moment Sylvain was transported back to a similar moment, several years earlier. But even though he flinched once more, he recovered quickly, standing up straight and meeting his father’s gaze with his own cold glare.

“I’m going. I’ll be back in a few days, perhaps a couple weeks. That’s all, Father.”

He waited for what his father would say in response, secretly enjoying the startled look on his face at Sylvain’s words. After a few moments of tense silence, he dismissively waved him off, saying that he’d have to work twice as hard when he came back to make up for the lost time.

“…Thank you, Father…”

It was a small victory, simpler than he had ever thought it would be. He wished he had done it before, years ago. But he had done it now, and he would have to accept that. That would have to be good enough for now.

The journey to Galatea took the better part of a week, Dimitri acting like a mother hen around Sylvain while Felix would pretend he wasn’t giving Sylvain larger portions of food at meals. Did he truly look that bad to them? He was more than relieved once they reached Galatea manor and entered Ingrid’s room, seeing her lying in bed with a book in hand, her ankle carefully wrapped.

“You’re here,” Ingrid greeted them warmly before noticing Sylvain, her smile widening, “Sylvain!”

She furrowed her brow as she looked him over.

“…Are you eating properly? You look thinner than I remember.”

“I’m fine,” Sylvain insisted, giving a pointed look to Dimitri and Felix, “I don’t need to be mothered.”

“We were just worried,” Dimitri told him as Felix went over to Ingrid to mock her about her injury, Ingrid looking seconds away from throwing her book at him.

“I know you guys were, and thank you for that. But…I’m okay…”

“ _Are you_?” Felix asked him sternly, frowning at him.

“I am,” Sylvain replied, daring any of the three to argue with him on it. He didn’t think he had it in him to be honest about his thoughts, if he even knew what he really felt. After a moment of silence, he smiled at Ingrid, “Anyways, today isn’t about me. It’s about our dear fallen knight.”

“Don’t you start,” Ingrid warned, holding her book up threateningly.

“Oh, I would _never_ ,” Sylvain laughed.

“You would,” Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid all answered at the same time, resigned looks on their faces.

And perhaps he did. But being there was nice, Ingrid recounting the tale of her fall, Felix butting in with his snarky remarks, and Dimitri alternating between shoving Felix into silence or taking potential projectiles out of Ingrid’s reach. Sylvain smiled, eyes closed, not feeling very talkative for once. He enjoyed listening to the familiar chaos of his friends…He truly had missed it.

He was fine. Or, rather, he would be fine, eventually. He should probably look deeper into his true feelings, his sincere thoughts, one day. He still didn’t understand many things, about himself, about the world. But these times with his friends were precious to him. His memories of his brother, bitter as many of them they may be, were just as dear, as irreplaceable. His future as the new heir to the Gautier family was set, that distant day when he took over being a terrifying inevitability, all because he was blessed by chance with a crest.

It was terrifying. So he would wear a smile, and none would be the wiser. He didn’t know what he should do. So he’d mask uncertainty with jokes. Just as he’d always done before, just as he’d do well into the future. Even though he understood it wasn’t a good solution, not by a long shot. But, at least for now, it would be enough for him.

Until that day came that Sylvain could confidently say he was no longer a child who didn’t understand anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Sylvain's brother doesn't have a name, don't mention him too much, it'll be annoying trying to make it not sound awkward. Also me: Keeps adding scenes of Sylvain with or talking to his brother. My take on their relationship is that they were originally very close and loving but the whole crest mess caused a lot of bitterness and shit to go down. It's pretty complicated as of the end of this fic. Watch Intsys punch me in the face for my attempt and reveal these two never liked each other, Sylvain's brother was always an ass, etc. Well, I tag it as pre-release for a reason!
> 
> I hope you liked this fic! I have one last one-shot fic coming up, and it's a Dimitri-centric one, to make up for my first fic about Dimitri and the Blue Lions being so tragic. I'm excited for it, especially since, if all goes according to plan, I'll actually be writing Byleth, Edelgard, and Claude for the first time! Although Edelgard and Claude's parts, as I currently plan them, aren't that long. But Byleth is, as of now, technically the second main character of that fic? We'll see when it comes out. After that, no more fics from me until after the game's released and I've had time to play things through. I originally had another fic in mind, but I decided to postpone it to after I play the game, because I need to know a little more before I take a crack at it. Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed!


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